


Chokepoint

by flammablehat, sophinisba



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Audio Format: M4B, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Breathplay, Collaboration, Community: kink_bingo, Community: pod-together, Established Relationship, F/M, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, Marriage, Podfic, alternate universe - United States
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/flammablehat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It goes through several iterations of mistake before it becomes a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chokepoint

**Author's Note:**

> Written by flammablehat and read by sophinisba for the pod-together and kink-bingo challenges, 2012. Cover by sophinisba. Contains explicit sex and breathplay.

  


[MP3](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2012/M-Chokepoint.mp3)

  
[M4B](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2012/M-Chokepoint%20by%20%20flammablehat,%20sophinisba.m4b)

* * *

**[Breathing In]**

* * *

It was an accident, and that was part of why it took Gwen a moment to react. Arthur was all around her, his arms braced against the mattress on either side of hers, his shoulders wide over her chest and his hips fitted firmly between her thighs, cock sliding into the tender, wet clench of her cunt. Her arousal spiraled hotter and tighter with every push, every noise of his exertion, the way his breath started to go rough and round with each exhale. She slid her fingers into his hair, tugging him down into a kiss. He shifted his weight to one arm and ran a palm over her belly, up to her breasts, catching her nipple between his fingertips and pinching. Surprised, she whined into his mouth, drawing her nails down his back and making his hips kick. His hand spread wide over her chest and he leaned up, leveraging his thrusts, and suddenly Gwen couldn’t draw a full breath.

For a long moment, it felt like being caught in the eye of a storm. Arthur broke from their kiss gasping, eyes shut tight as his hips chased his orgasm, and her stomach flipped with panic and pleasure both, and she couldn’t breathe.

[Wheezing] “Arthur,” she said, digging her fingers into his ribs, and he opened his eyes and looked down at his hand and scrambled back so quickly he almost tumbled off the end of the bed.

[Breathing harshly] “Jesus, Gwen, are you okay?” Arthur crawled back over her and gently touched her shoulder, her chest.

“I’m fine,” she said, noting the rapid beat of her heart and her own panting breath with a strange sense of distance. The relief was physical, her body’s gratitude for being able to inhale freely again, but she also felt oddly jittery, like the drop after an adrenaline high.

“I’m so sorry.” Arthur deliberately settled down next to her hip, looking guilty. “I didn’t even notice I was leaning on you that much,” he groaned, rubbing a palm over his face. Between his legs, his erection had almost completely softened.

“No, it’s okay!” she said, catching hold of his hand. “Really, it was a mistake, I’m okay! We were having such a nice time.” Arthur mumbled something unintelligible against her hip and she smiled, pushing him over onto his back. “Is the mood completely ruined?” she asked, petting at his forehead.

He looked up at her, blinking. “It doesn’t have to be,” he said, grinning, and she shrieked as he wrestled her down the bed and on top of him until she straddled his hips. It took only a few minutes of them rocking slowly together until he’d recovered himself enough to arch up and press back inside her, and a few more minutes until they were continuing much where they’d left off. Gwen hit her stride and came hard with a series of short, grinding motions that had him following close behind, and all-in-all it was a very nice way to end the night in spite of the brief hiccup.

Arthur fell asleep with his arm around her waist, and Gwen reached across him to turn off the bedside lamp. The dark was quiet and peaceful, with the faint sound of crickets audible through the window. She closed her eyes, enjoying Arthur’s warm scent and the slickness between her legs, the mild stretch in her muscles. Exhaling quietly, she slipped a hand under the covers and rubbed her thumb over her clit, enjoying the memory of Arthur’s weight, and then abruptly recalling the rush of those few moments without air.

She paused, thinking.

Curiously, hesitantly, she held her breath. She flicked her thumb once, and then twice. She did it again, faster, over and over until sensation built like a slow wave that stoppered just below her ribs. Pressure swelled; she tipped her legs open just a little wider, switched to rubbing with her fingers. Her chest twitched with the need to exhale — she shook with the effort not to writhe against Arthur’s side — and _there_ , there it was, she was coming, gasping and trembling and pressing the heel of her palm down against her cunt hard, muting the buzz of sensation zinging along what felt like every nerve ending in her body.

Arthur shifted, lifting his hand from her side. “You okay?” he asked, voice slurry with sleep. 

“Fine,” she said, trying to control her breath. “I was just...remembering something. Sorry to wake you.”

He grumbled a little, resettling himself, and shortly resumed his light snoring. Gwen stared up at the dark ceiling and counted the race of her heartbeat.

* * *

**[Panting]**

* * *

It didn’t have to mean anything. She just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

When he hugged her, she wondered what it would be like if he didn’t loosen his hold after the first crushing press of his arms. When they kissed and he cupped her neck in his hands, she imagined him tightening the circle of his fingers. When they had sex the following night, she maneuvered herself underneath him so that when he finished, it was in a happily exhausted slump on top of her. His full weight didn’t stop her breathing so much as constrict it, making her stomach flutter wildly while she clutched at his shoulders. He slid off to her side when he remembered himself, kissing sleepy apologies against her arm.

Once she was certain he’d drifted off, she tiptoed to the bathroom and worked herself to three orgasms with her vibrator, holding her breath each time. She returned to bed with a splitting headache and shaking knees.

They had a late breakfast the next morning to celebrate the weekend. In an effort to do some authentic relaxing, Arthur tried to simultaneously eat his eggs and read the Sunday newspaper. Gwen nervously picked at her toast until her plate was a giant pile of crumbs.

[Clearing her throat] “So,” she said, pushing an indent into her crumb pile with her finger. “You know how Gwaine is always talking about...letting women spank him and stuff?”

Arthur folded the top of his paper over his fingers to look at her, eyebrow raised. “Has he brought it up recently?”

“Uh,” Gwen said, already feeling her face begin to heat. “No, not that I know of, I was just thinking about it.” Arthur’s eyebrow arched even higher. “Not Gwaine! Or his ass, god, no. Just, that he enjoys that sort of thing.”

“I’m pretty sure he makes it all up,” Arthur muttered, trying and failing to casually flip his paper back upright.

“Well, I mean. I was just thinking, about the other night, when you accidentally, you know — er, when I couldn’t breathe?” she said, stomach twisting when Arthur’s face fell, apologetic again. “No, I promise I’m okay, I was just thinking. People do that, sometimes, you know?”

“Accidentally crush each other?” Arthur said.

“I’m sure they do, yes, but I mean more purposefully. Like, someone might cut off their partner’s air the same way someone might spank their partner’s ass.”

Arthur looked at her for a moment. “Do I need to have a talk with Gwaine?”

“No!” [Groaning] “This has nothing to do with Gwaine. The other night, when I couldn’t breathe. It was...it was kind of exciting. And I thought, maybe we could...try it?”

Arthur frowned, setting his paper aside. “I don’t understand. Are you—” he gestured vaguely with his hands, “—are you asking me to choke you?” The honest thread of horror in his voice had Gwen looking down at her fingers, cheeks blazing.

“Yes?” she said.

Arthur glanced around, sliding his plate forward, folding his paper, fidgeting. “Gwen,” he finally said. “I’d never do that. I could never do that; I could never intentionally hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course,” she said, feeling wrong footed. “I’m not— this isn’t a test. I just thought we could try.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Arthur said, standing up to take their plates to the sink. The line of his mouth was flat, his shoulders tense.

Gwen nodded, stomach curdling with disappointment and embarrassment, and changed the subject.

* * *

**[Labored Inhaling]**

* * *

The problem was that Gwen still couldn’t stop thinking about it.

She wasn’t an adrenaline junkie, or a risk-taker like Gwaine. If the accidental crushing hadn’t happened, the whole idea to try it deliberately probably would never have occurred to her. She could have carried on as always, enjoying Arthur’s goodness, and his strength, and his humor, without wondering if there was something they might be missing.

And while she could appreciate that Arthur didn’t want to hurt her, she hadn’t expected him to see it that way. She felt more as though she was asking for help by broaching the subject. Which only brought her back to the discouraging possibility that there was something wrong with her for wanting him to put his hands around her neck. That theory didn’t sit perfectly with her — she didn’t _feel_ wrong, after all. Arthur might not share her interest, but maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe it was a little like enjoying the same musical artist without necessarily liking all the same songs. Perhaps, if she was able to show him that, he could... Well. He could do or feel whatever he wanted.

She didn’t know what would happen, but she did think it was important that Arthur see that _she_ liked the idea well enough to want to try it.

So she sat him down at the head of the bed and climbed between his legs, settling on her back with her head in his lap. He smiled down at her.

“Didn’t you want to show me something?” he asked. “Or is this a clever ploy for head rubs?”

“Not exactly,” Gwen said, taking his hands in hers. “I didn’t get a chance to say what I wanted to the other morning, or not completely, because I really didn’t know how. I still might not know how, not in a way that would sound any better to you, so I thought I could try to show you instead—” She placed his palms over her neck. Arthur flinched, but she closed her eyes and held his wrists. “Please. You don’t have to do anything. Just, listen to me for a few minutes. Please, Arthur?”

“Gwen,” he said, all the warmth leached out of his voice, replaced with uncertainty.

“You’re not hurting me. I promise you’re not.” She felt her face heating again, could sense him watching her in that sharp, intent way that had never failed to make her blush, stripped by the force of his focus. “I’m still trying to understand, myself. But I like the idea of you doing this for me. I don’t think it’s hurtful — not if I want it, and I do want it. I—” She slid her hands from his and he didn’t pull away. “The first time, it was scary, but only because it was unexpected. But I’ve been holding my breath, and—” she bit her lip, moving her hand under the waist of her skirt to press between her legs, closing her thighs around her fingers. “I get dizzy, and it’s a bit of a struggle, but it feels really good. Even now, without you cutting off my air at all. I wish you knew how it makes me feel, knowing that you could,” she trailed off, embarrassed. Her skin tingled just to imagine the way they looked: the brightness of her flush over his pale hands, the unevenness of her breathing and the way she squirmed faintly between his legs, uncomfortable but alight with awareness.

Arthur drew one of his hands away to brush a curl of her hair behind her ear. Then, deliberately, he pressed two fingers into the dip of her throat — not hard, but firm, making Gwen arch.

Without a word, Arthur slid out from under her and walked quietly from the room.

* * *

**[Choking]**

* * *

After that, Gwen made a point of keeping her experimentation to herself, testing the limits of her endurance when she took her breaks at work or when Arthur was deeply asleep. The face value of their love life remained the same, and she could pretend that Arthur was not only a willing but _enthusiastic_ participant in her fantasies, as long as she didn’t talk about them with him.

She hadn’t anticipated that the little breathing tricks she practiced in secret would start to become regular, mindless habit until it went unusually still across the breakfast table one morning, and she noticed with a start that Arthur was looking at her. They hadn’t discussed the incident: his walking out; her creeping feeling of shame; their subsequent mutual, unspoken agreement to just leave it alone. As far as Gwen was aware, this was the first time Arthur had done anything to acknowledge what had happened, though he was silent and his expression difficult to read. She swallowed, smoothing the unevenness of her breathing into a more natural rhythm as casually as possible, turning back to her cereal and coffee without comment.

It happened again while they were watching a movie; Arthur paused the film and looked at her, his eyes shadowed. Gwen forced her held breath into an awkward cough and stood up to refill their bowl of popcorn. She relaxed a bit once the movie resumed, but she couldn’t enjoy it completely with her attention split between the screen and her own mindfully steady pattern of inhale and exhale.

Things between her and Arthur felt both strained and not. They still had bills and chores and weekend plans to negotiate together, and the demands of the day-to-day had a tempering effect on any lingering, abstract awkwardness. They’d always had an effortless way around each other, even when they occasionally fought. But this wasn’t a fight, and it didn’t feel like the matter had been completely resolved. Every time Gwen thought they’d buried the discomfort under the cover of their normal lives, Arthur would pause as he let her out of a tight hug, or place his hand over her heart when it was quiet and dark and they both should have been asleep. His lips would linger over her sternum when they had sex, or he’d rest his chin on her shoulder, and she would squeeze her eyes shut tight because she’d know he was listening for her breathing. The thought was both thrilling and mortifying.

She wanted to go on like that, pretend it was accepted and okay. At the same time, she worried that she was forcing Arthur into uncomfortable territory by flirting with that unspoken line, by not trying harder to stop. An even smaller, quieter part of her resented having to worry about it at all, that his discomfort should dictate what made her feel good, but thinking like that only made her feel more guilty, and the cycle of inner conflict began again.

Which was why she was taken by considerable surprise when Arthur broached the subject himself.

“I heard you,” he said abruptly, staring down at his hands. Gwen looked up from her new mystery novel and blinked at him for a second, and then the back of her throat went dry.

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” she said, struggling between honesty and defensiveness. Arthur’s brow knit as he shrugged out of his shirt and joined her on the bed. He carefully took the book from her hands and set it aside.

“What? No, I meant. I _heard_ you, I heard what you said when you told me about the—the breathing. I know we haven’t talked about it. But I didn’t want you to think that I...didn’t hear you.”

Gwen sat up a little straighter under the covers, looking at Arthur and the way he wouldn’t quite meet her eyes, too busy fidgeting with the coverlet. [Pausing] “I didn’t think you had,” she admitted.

Arthur glanced around, rubbing the back of his neck. “It would have been easier,” he started, awkward, “if I could have done it for you. Just for you. Because you wanted me to, and it makes me happy to be able to give you what you want, even if...even if I don’t understand it. But you— fuck. Fuck, Gwen. I thought I’d _hurt_ you, but then you said I didn’t, and then you said you wanted more, and I felt — I shouldn’t have felt that way. What does it mean if I want it too? I can’t be that person, Gwen; I can’t be _that_ man, who ch-chokes his wife and gets off on it, how could I—?”

“Shh, no, no,” Gwen said, catching Arthur’s sharply gesturing hands. “It doesn’t work like that.” Dismayed, she slid across the bed and into his lap, cupping his face in her palms. “Why is it only okay for me to want this, but not you? Arthur,” she shook her head, pressing her face to his chest. Tugging softly at his hair, she wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, trying to sort through her surprise and relief and sympathy.

“I don’t want to _want_ to hurt you,” Arthur said.

“I don’t think that’s what this is.” said Gwen, sitting back to look in his eyes. “I don’t think you’d enjoy my discomfort just for its own sake. And even if you did! Think of Gwaine— some people...like that!” She gestured, meaning to encompass all the things some people might like, ignoring the face Arthur pulled at the mention of Gwaine. “No, listen. I don’t think this is about what we like or don’t like. It’s about...” she hesitated, wheeling her hands now, trying to spin the idea out of its hiding place. “Look, if you could make me enjoy anything you did to me, would you do it?”

“Would I do what?” Arthur asked, wary.

“Anything! Would you, I don’t know, make me come! If I didn’t want to?”

“Why wouldn’t you want to?”

“Oh my god, Arthur, answer the question!”

“I wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to! I might ask what I’d done to actually put you off the idea of _enjoying_ sex with me, but I’d never force you into anything... you didn’t want...” he trailed off with a widening tone of understanding.

“That’s it!” Gwen bounced, excited. “If you wanted to try spanking, and I wanted to try spanking, and _we both_ wanted it, then it’s not about either of us hurting the other. I would be much more hurt if you did something I didn’t want, even if everyone else in the world thought it was a nice thing, than if we tried something we both wanted and maybe found out we didn’t like it after we’d tried. You know?”

Arthur eyed her sideways. “Is this your way of telling me you want to try spanking?” he asked, grinning and batting away her attempts to pinch him.

“The point,” she said, taking his hand and placing it over her throat, “is that I trust you, Arthur. And I want to try, if you do.”

Arthur swallowed, his eyes sobering as he swept his thumb over the splay of her collarbones. He nodded, mostly to himself, and then leaned in to kiss her neck.

* * *

**[Gasping]**

* * *

His fingers were very warm, and his eyes very blue, and Gwen felt the most amazing sense of calm. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yes.” She put her hands on his arms like they’d agreed, prepared to pull if she needed him to stop.

“Okay,” he said, soft, though he was still clearly reluctant to start. His hold on her neck trembled. Gwen closed her eyes, sliding her hands gently over his, just touching. “You’re beautiful,” Arthur said, finally beginning to squeeze. “I...can feel your heartbeat.”

She smiled, heart jumping as the air began to thin and stutter in her windpipe. She tightened her thighs around his hips, her vision blurring at the edges.

“Gwen,” he said, leaning in to kiss all along the curve of her ear, fervent and sweet. It was _almost_ right, almost exactly what she’d hoped for. But even under the firm, balanced pressure of his grip, she could still draw the slightest breath — just short of where she wanted to be.

And so, carefully, she slipped her fingers into his hair and tugged his mouth over hers.

* * *

**[The End]**

* * *


End file.
